Work Text:
Wirt laid down on the ground. It was covered in snow. Nowadays, it never seemed to stop snowing in The Unknown. Wirt would have found it poetic if it wasn’t because he didn’t care about anything anymore.
There was a lantern by his side. Its light was faint, but it still seemed to dance cheerfully inside the old metal beacon. He felt like crying. But he couldn't. He had forgotten what it was like to cry, to smile to feel.
He hadn't feel anything since he made that deal with The Beast. Since he failed at his only duty, to keep Greg from danger, to keep him safe. And now, his brother was nothing but a dying light in an oil lamp. Nothing but broken branches and dead kids.
Wirt wondered a lot. He was tired. He was tired of going around chopping branches. He felt hopeless, doing all that had no purpose if he was never going to see his brother again. If he could never say he was sorry, apologizing for being such a horrible sibling. Wirt would do anything to switch places with Greg. He would do anything to just disappear.
He wanted the world to act like he had never existed in the first place.
He often daydreamed about blowing the fire. Just one breath and everything would be gone, forever. But then, he felt those eyes staring at him, spying him. Those multi-coloured eyes that haunted him from sunrise to sunset, never letting him a slight realm of peace.
Wirt was really going crazy. He could see no end but an insane repetition of day after wretched day. Apathy had devoured him. A darkness, more diabolic than The Beast's branches, wrapped around him and never seemed to let him go.
But Wirt was ready to let go of it all.
He was going to blow the candle, all his hopes away with it.
He hear the whispers, the maddening voice of his captor, telling him not to do it. Could he be as selfish to murder his own brother? Would he really do that? Why wouldn’t he just resign and get back to his duty?
Why couldn’t he just die?
He was sick. Sick and drained. He couldn’t write poetry anymore, he couldn’t feel things anymore, he couldn’t hug Greg for one last time because he was just an illusion trapped on the fire.
So everything
Finishes
Now.
I'm sorry, Greg.